


ANARCHY TIPS

by Spectrospecs



Category: Baccano!
Genre: Car Accident TW, Gen, baccano week, gore tw, i'm interpreting this as life AND death, life or death, so here have a weird combination of fluff and pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7902223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectrospecs/pseuds/Spectrospecs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dallas falls back into Eve's life, he tries to rebuild the friendship they had as children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ANARCHY TIPS

1934

New York City

"All I'm sayin' is, you can't just learn everything from books and tutors and think you can make it out in the real world. If you're gonna make a name for yourself, you gotta know how people work. You know, street smarts and all that."

The empty entrance hall of the Genoard mansion tossed the rough voice of Dallas Genoard back to the speaker, who was currently loitering next to a banister. His sister's response, by comparison, rung like a chime in the spacious hall.

"And I suppose you'd be the one to teach me?" Eve asked, selecting a coat and hat from the rack.

"I don't see anyone else volunteering, do you?" 

Eve adopted a distressed expression, peering around as if searching for something. "Oh no, how could I _possibly_ find anybody in New York City who knows how to skirt around the law? There's an absolute _dearth_ of criminal activity these days, no doubt about it. It's a crying shame. Why, just the other day I was talking to a Mafioso friend of mine about it and…"

"Hey," Dallas interrupted sharply. "Don't you be learning anything from those Mafia goons. All I'm talking about is street smarts. They're a whole 'nother level of fucked up, I don't want you getting mixed up in any of that shit." 

He scowled and leaned against the banister, silent until he made sure his point came across. Or at least until he remembered something else he wanted to say. "Oh, and one more thing. Don't let those little punks hanging around our Jersey place teach you anything, either. All you'd learn is how to lose any fight you got into before anyone throws a punch."

"Alright then," Eve conceded, "If you're teaching me, I might as well start learning now. What do I need to know?"

"What, you think I got a textbook? This sorta stuff all depends on the situation."

"Is that so?" she asked, pulling on her shoes. "How am I supposed to learn, then? I can't just follow you around all the time."

"Well, how about this? You're going around and doing some errand-type stuff, right? I'll just tag along and get you started on the ins and outs of the city. Real hands-on experience and all that. Whaddya think?"

Eve pulled her laces tight with a definitive tug, then turned back towards Dallas with a smile. "Sure, sounds like fun." 

And so they set off towards town. Dallas slouched, hands in pockets, looking almost comical next to Eve's light and purposeful gait. After a couple of blocks, he cleared his throat and tried to strike up a conversation.

"So, where are you going first?"

"I need to pick up some groceries," Eve answered, pulling a list out of her purse. "Fang said he was going to teach me how to make a Bolognese recipe tomorrow. He said I didn't have to bother with shopping for ingredients, but I told him I want to know what goes into cooking a dish from the beginning. And that means groceries."

"Hm. Neat."

"I don't suppose you have any street-smarts tips about buying groceries, do you?"

"I dunno. Maybe. I'll see when we get there."

Eve nodded slightly, but didn't reply. Dallas scowled, more frustrated with himself than anything else. 

_Damn it, why can't I just fucking talk to my sister like a regular person? I'm terrible at this. Shit, what did I think was gonna happen? I'd take a fucking walk to the grocery store and that would fix the last four fucking years of me being a total asshole? Sure, right, and a magical fucking vampire is gonna jump from behind a corner and give me a million bucks and a fucking pony. Keep fucking dreaming. But, damn it, I gotta make this whole street smarts thing work. This is probably gonna be the last chance I get. I can't let Eve down. Again._

"Hey, where are you going?"

Eve's voice snapped Dallas out of his thoughts. She had stopped in front of a storefront ten feet back while Dallas, busy losing an argument with himself, had kept right on walking. He turned on his heel and hurried back.

"Oh, we're going to this one. Right. I, uh, thought we were going to the, uh, the one on the other side of the block. Haha, oops." 

"Okay…" She looked like she wanted to pry further, but she settled for a concerned expression and made her way into the shop. He followed her in.

_And now I've gone and worried her more. Shit._

Eve gripped the list, filled with lines of neatly handwritten ingredients, and started towards the produce. She moved purposefully from section to section as she crossed item after item off her list. Onions, garlic, peppers, and bundles of fresh herbs congregated in her basket.

Dallas contented himself with loitering off to the side. He glanced over at a pile of string beans, priced by the pound. A grin snuck across his face. He slid over and nudged Eve's side with his elbow, pulling her attention away from the small mountain of tomatoes she had been carefully deconstructing. 

"Say, over here we have a perfect opportunity for ANARCHY TIPS!" Dallas muffled his mouth with his hand, talking like an overzealous radio announcer. 

"Anarchy tips?"

"Yeah, ANARCHY TIPS! For example, here we have…string beans," Dallas said, gesturing grandly as Eve stifled a giggle. "Now, these here string beans are a nickel a pound. A fabulous price, what a steal! But of course you don't steal 'em. You just stick 'em in this here brown paper bag and the lady at the front puts it on a scale and tells ya how much you pay. 

"But if we direct our attention to this shelf," Dallas swung around and pointed to a small baked-goods section, "we see lovely fresh-baked muffins, absolutely incredible, at the incredible price of a dime for half a dozen! But wait, you say, these muffins cost much more than these here string beans. That's double the price for half the weight! And I would say to you, good job on all that fancy math, but there is another way. You just have to take this here brown paper bag and fill it with as many of these here muffins as you like. Then just take a little handful of string beans and sprinkle them on top, so when you take them up to the lovely lady at the front, she'll just see the string beans, weigh them like string beans, and you'll buy your muffins at string-bean prices! Now, of course, that's not actually the anarchy way. That's just the delinquent way."

Dallas paused in his monologue, eyebrows raised and a grin on his face, waiting for his sister to take the hint. 

Despite the laughter bubbling in her voice, Eve valiantly fought to keep a straight face, and asked, "So what's the anarchy way?"

"Grab the muffins and run."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

"Hey, at least you got your groceries in the end," Dallas said, as they walked out of the grocery store on the other side of the block.

"I still can't believe we got chased out of the store by the owner. That was downright humiliating."

"What didja expect? I was talking about robbing them in the middle of the store."

"I'll never be able to shop there again. And I really liked their apples, too."

"Eh, give it a couple of weeks. She'll have forgotten you by then. Now, I wasn't expectin' her to pull a broom on us. What do we look like, a couple of stray cats?"

"It certainly looked like she knew how to use it, too."

"Certainly, my ass. She smacked me in the face with that thing. I was this close to losin' a tooth."

"She didn't actually hurt you, did she?"

"A little, actually. But nothin' hurts for very long nowadays, so I'm fine."

"Oh, yeah. Right." The cheerfulness on Eve's face slipped away. She seemed to suddenly be very interested in making sure the clasp on her purse was functioning properly. 

"Do you ever think about it?" She asked in a whisper.

Dallas was silent for a moment. His response was as quiet as the question. "I try not to."

Eve nodded a bit, as if she'd been expecting that answer, then said nothing more. They walked along in awkward silence for a minute. 

Dallas fidgeted with his fingernails, glancing between his sister and the patch of sidewalk in front of his feet. Eventually he asked, "What about you?"

"I can't seem to stop, honestly," she replied. "It's just that…well, growing up, we were so close, you know? We did everything together. If I had a thought, you were the first to hear it, and it was the same way with you. And now, every time I think about it…I guess it's just one more way that we're falling apart."

The words tumbled out, everything she had been turning over and over in her head. "But it's not that I want it for myself, I think. I don't want to live forever. Or, at least, not like that." She paused to give an anxious laugh. "I know this sounds stupid, but I've just always had a different idea of what it means to live forever. I think that, if you help someone, they'll remember what you did for them. And if you help a lot of people, they'll each hold a memory of you. Some of them will tell others, and then all of them will have a memory of you, too. And so even if you're gone, you still get to live on through the people whose lives are better because of you."

"Huh." Dallas shoved his hands in his pockets. When he didn't elaborate, Eve stopped short.

"'Huh' what?"

"What?"

"What does 'huh' mean? I know you're thinking something, just tell me what!"

Dallas shrugged. "Just, huh, never thought about it like that. Huh, that's kinda an interesting way to see it."

"Oh," Eve said, her indignation instantly melted away. 

Dallas smirked. "'Oh' what?" 

He snickered as she swatted him on the arm, a smile itching at the corners of her lips. He dodged her next swipe and circled to walk on her other side.

"So, uh, what's next? Where are we headed?"

Eve dug the list out of her purse again. "Well, I need to pick up a new set of bed linens. Moths got to the spare guest sheets. There's a place a few blocks down that sells them."

"Oh yeah, d'you know about what time it's getting to be?"

She glanced at the slim watch on her wrist. "Um, three fourty-"

"Time for more ANARCHY TIPS!" The radio announcer voice was back, drawing confused glances from passersby. Eve laughed, then wrestled her face into an attentive stare as Dallas began his monologue. 

"You see, there's an ongoing battle across this here great nation of ours. With every day that goes by, each side grows more and more extreme, and I fear that if a compromise is not reached it may tear apart families. The issue in question is…" 

Dallas paused for dramatic emphasis, eyes focused on Eve with absolute gravity. The effect was tempered by the fact that his hand was still muffling his mouth. "Shouldja or shouldn't ya make your bed every single morning? _Of course!_ Say parents. In a world of chaos, a freshly made bed is our last bastion of control and order! _But wait!_ The children respond. Everybody knows you slept in your bed last night. Everybody knows you're going to sleep in it again tonight. Why do we, as a society, continue wasting time and effort on this pointless charade to convince everybody otherwise? And I say: there's no more need for fighting, because a solution is at hand!

"The first thing ya gotta do is make your bed. This first step may seem like a concession to the parent camp, to which I'd tell ya, bear with me. Ya gotta make sure everything is tucked in real tight. The sheets, the blankets, even the pillows. It's gotta be approximately tight enough to strangle a toddler. But it is absolutely imperative to leave one blanket out of the whole configuration! Because what you're gonna do is, when it's time to go to sleep, you just lay yourself down on top of your tucked-in blankets and put that last blanket on top of ya. Then in the morning, ya stash the spare and voila! A perfectly made bed that will withstand weeks without making it again! Now of course, that's not actually the anarchy way. That's just the clever way."

Eve kept her face blank just long enough to ask, "So what's the anarchy way?"

"Sleep on the floor."

Eve's pealing laughter rang off of the brick buildings surrounding them. Dallas found himself laughing too, the first real laugh in a long, long time. Whenever it seemed like one of them was just about done laughing, the other would inhale with a snort, and that would set them both off again. Other pedestrians chuckled sympathetically and parted around the siblings.

Eventually, the two of them wound down to breathy giggles. Eve wiped the tears from her eyes with a sleeve and wheezed, "You know, we'd better get going to pick up those sheets."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Dallas cleared his throat, shaking the last remnants of laughter out of his voice. 

"Alright, so up ahead we'll just take a right at the stoplight and…"

"Hold up a sec, are we headed to that place that sells sheets that's across the road from the gramophone store? Couple of doors down from a barber?"

"Yes, that's the one," Eve answered, skirting to the side of the sidewalk to let a woman walking a bulldog pass by.

"Well, if we take this alley here, it'll let out right next door, and we won't have to go around the block. Shortcut, ya know?"

"Is that another anarchy tip?" She asked with a smile.

"No, but since you're so eager, lemme see if I can think one up for ya." He thought for a second as they rerouted into the alley, then put on the radio announcer voice.

"You see, people only care about stuff like walking in the middle of a road if there's cars around. Like that car there, take a look at that speed demon! But walking down the road is so much better than walking down the sidewalk, ya know? You just feel powerful, like you own the road! So all you gotta do is find a road without any cars, like this alley here, and you can walk like the boulevard is yours to command! But of course, that's not actually – shit! Get off!"

Dallas broke character as a white mouse darted out from a drain and scampered over his shoes. 

Eve remembered it as though it were a series of photographs. The white mouse skittering across the road. The bulldog wrenching its leash out of its owner's hand, poised to bound after it. The car barreling down the street. Swerving to avoid the dog. Into the alley. Staring down at the pair of headlights careening towards her. A hand on her back. The screech of tires almost drowning out a panicked shout. A sickening thud. 

The world flickered back into motion. There were pebbles digging into Eve's palms and a brick wall inches from her face. One sleeve of her dress was ragged from scraping across the asphalt, and pinpricks of blood were starting to appear on her forearm, but otherwise she didn't feel like she had just been hit by a speeding vehicle. 

A car door slammed open. A voice she didn't recognize stammered something about calling for an ambulance. Footsteps pounded away in search of a phone booth. Why? She was fine, just a little scraped up. She should count herself lucky she – 

_Dallas._

The thought seared through her mind just as she became aware of a rasping, gurgling noise. It was coming from behind her. From between herself and the car. A small voice in her mind begged her not to turn around, to shut her eyes and run, hadn't she seen enough at the Mist Wall, no I told you not to look, stop turning around, no no _no_.

His rib cage was crushed. Through the haze of tears blurring her vision, she could see white spires of bone peeking through his red-stained shirt. Liquid rattled in his lungs with every shuddering breath. 

"No, no, no no no no nononono," Eve haltingly reached out a shaking hand, trying to find some way to comfort her dying brother. Oh god, what isn't broken? Would holding his hand only hurt him more? His face was contorted in pain, eyes clenched shut. She settled for gently brushing his cheek with the back of her hand.

At her touch, Dallas's face seemed to relax slightly. His eyes inched open and swiveled to rest on her. 

"Eve? You alright?" His voice was barely audible above the rattling of his breathing.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me, I just… oh, God…"

"You know, I'm startin' to think that whole "livin' on in memory" thing sounds like a pretty good idea."

Dallas tried to take a breath, but the stress of talking had pushed his ruined lungs past the point of no return. The horrible sound of his shuddering breathing stopped. His eyes glazed over and his face went slack. Eve reached for his hand and cradled it in both of hers as the warmth drained out of it. She began to cry in earnest, tears flooding down her face. 

_No. No, please, God, no. Why does this keep happening? How many times do I have to watch you die? Why can I never do anything to help you? Why do I keep hoping things will change? I'm useless, like I always have been. The world is cruel, like it always has been. And it's you who pays for it, like it always has been._

Of course, she never said any of this. All she could do was clutch her brother's limp hand and sob. 

But then. A cough. Fingers, flooded with new warmth, curled around hers. Her breath caught in her throat. Before she had time to react, a voice reminiscent of a dehydrated radio announcer croaked:

"But of course, that's not the anarchy way."

**Author's Note:**

> The "anarchy tips" concept was inspired by some college kid on a trip my sister took. To this guy whose name and stories have been forgotten in the sands of time, you shall always be remembered for your sage words of wisdom that inspired this whole fic: "Grab the muffins and run."
> 
> So, this is actually the first fic I ever wrote beginning to end. Let me know in the comments what you thought!


End file.
